


Promises

by Wine_Into_Water



Series: Unconditional Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-18
Updated: 2006-07-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wine_Into_Water/pseuds/Wine_Into_Water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is a companion piece to my other story, Unconditional. Dean doesn’t have much faith in promises anymore…based on the question asked in Nightmares – What if Sam and Dean had Max’s childhood?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

The first time Dean hears the word “promise,” he’s just turned four; there is still chocolate birthday cake in the fridge. It’s after bedtime and he’s tucked under the covers, wondering why he woke up because all the lights are off and he’s not thirsty and doesn’t need to go to the bathroom. He sees the man standing in the corner of his room watching him, only visible to him because the moonlight is falling on the floor just in front of his feet. The man isn’t suppose to be there; he can’t see who it is, but knows it’s not his daddy, so he screams and pulls his covers tighter as if they could protect him.

His mom and dad are in the room before he can scream again. His mom is holding him close and Dad has his baseball bat in hand as he looks out the window and checks the closets.

“Nothing there, Dean,” his dad says as he sits on the bed.

Dean wiggles out of his mother’s arms and climbs into his father’s lap, wrapping his tiny arms around his father’s neck and holding him tight. Feeling secure in his father’s embrace.

”I saw him, Daddy.”

His father stands up, still holding him, and makes his way to the hallway. “How about you stay in our room tonight?”

Dean knows he’s suppose to be a big boy now; he’s four and he goes to school after summer goes away and he has a baby brother or sister coming soon that he will help take care of, but he thinks that just this once it’s OK to not be a big boy. He nods his head and agrees.

He snuggles into the middle of the bed. A big fluffy comforter almost swallowing him up.

”Dean?”

He peeks his head up from the down filled warmth and looks at his mother.

”Sit up, sweetie.”

He does, and his mother sits in front of him and puts something around his neck. He clutches the end of it in his hand and looks up. “What is it?”

”It’s something to keep you safe. It will protect you. It’ll keep all the bad guys away.”

”Really?” His four-year-old mind thinks that it must be magic or some sort of super power.

His mother smiles and kisses the top of his head. “Promise you, Dean, cross my heart and hope to die.”

Dean figures by definition dads aren’t bad guys.

\--

Dean is seven years old the first time his father hits him. He’s three houses down on his way home from school walking slow and kicking stones with his friend Jeff when he hears Sammy scream. He automatically starts to run for home, leaving Jeff behind without so much as a look back. He reaches the door and slams it open, dropping his backpack just on the inside of the threshold, and starts up the stairs. Not tall enough yet to take two at a time, but running up them as fast as he can manage. Sammy is crying and he can’t see his father anywhere. He tops the stairs and turns towards their room; Sammy is on the other side, still crying and calling for him in broken sobs.

”Sammy, I’m here. It’s okay, Sammy.”

He tries the doorknob but it won’t turn. He tries again, starting to panic; still nothing. He starts kicking at the door, thinking that maybe he can break it down or something.

”Get away from the door, Dean.”

Relief floods over him. “Dad! The door’s stuck. We have to get to Sammy.”

John’s voice is hard and cold. He steps closer, his big hand clamping down hard on Dean’s shoulder as he pulls the boy back and shoves him away. “I said stay away from the damn door.”

He’s never made it a habit to disobey his father. But Sam is still calling for him, his crying starting up again after he heard John’s voice. He steps forward again, planning on going around his father and closer to the door, if nothing else then to just talk to Sam again and stop him from crying. “Sammy?” And that’s when he feels a sharp pain on the side of his face. Tears spring into his eyes as he grabs the side his cheek. He didn’t see what happened, thinks that maybe it was his father but that doesn’t make any sense.

John is kneeling in front of him, big arms wrapped around his body holding him close. “Shhh, I’m sorry Deano. I’m so sorry. It’s okay, don’t cry.” He pulls back and holds Dean’s face in his hands. “I didn’t mean to, Dean, I didn’t.” His hand is rubbing along the sting on Dean’s face, and Dean flinches back, biting his bottom lip to stop his crying.

”I want to see Sammy,” he says just above a whisper, scared that he’ll get hit again. He has to take the chance because Sammy is still saying his name over and over again, sounding more scared than Dean himself. But John only nods and pulls a key out of his shirt pocket. Dean doesn’t remember having a locking door to their room.

John doesn’t look at him as he unlocks the door, keeping his face straight ahead. The key turns and he puts his hand on the doorknob, ready to turn it. “It won’t happen again Deano, I promise.”

Dean is only a couple months older when John breaks his promise.

\--

Dean doesn’t have much faith in promises anymore. Doesn’t trust the word like he should, knows it can be easily spoken without any heart behind it, just an idle word that seems to ease a situation. So he worries when he has to ask Sammy to make him a promise. Sammy has never given him a reason not to trust him, but if Sam doesn’t keep this one, it could cost Dean everything.

It’s a little after lunch on a Monday afternoon and they’re both walking down the sidewalk away from their house and down towards the park. They’re skipping school today. Dean because there is a set of deep purple fingerprints on this arm that he won’t be able to hide when it comes time for gym class, and Sam for no other reason then wanting, no, needing to be close to Dean, still scared of what happened the Friday before, no matter how many times Dean tells him he’s OK.

He needs to keep Sam safe because he knows nobody else will. So the best way to do that, his ten-year-old brain rationalizes, is to keep all attention off of Sam. If Dad comes home smelling sour and slurring his speech, then he makes sure he’s the first one his father sees, makes sure that if Sam is being loud, then he’s louder. Makes sure that if their father asks Sammy a question then he’s right beside Sam as he answers, always on the left because that’s the hand that usually comes first if Dad doesn’t like the answer. He needs to do more though, so he comes up with a plan, stayed up nights figuring everything out. Making lists in his head to make sure he hasn’t missed anything. He knows one of these days he won’t be quick enough or he won’t be able to out last his father, and Sammy will need a place to hide. And he finds the perfect spot better than the tree house in Jeff’s backyard, even better than across the street at old lady Kagebeck’s house. He finds this place in the trees behind the park. It’s almost like a fort that’s been abandoned except it’s obvious that the trees just grew that way. Sam is fast for his age and could make the run in no time, and no one would ever think to look for him there. So he decides it’s the place. He’s already left some juice boxes and fruit cups under a bunch of leaves, and there is an extra hoodie and blanket in a plastic bag tucked behind the tree that splits in two. He’s still debating on the flashlight.

Now he just has to tell Sammy about it and to make him promise. That’s the part of this whole thing that Dean doesn’t have a back up plan for; that’s the part of the plan that could blow up in his face.

”Cool!” is the first thing Sam says when he sees the place.

”You like it Sammy?”

Sam nods his head in approval, causing his curly hair to flop around. Dean will have to take him for a haircut on Saturday.

”Well it’s all yours.” He tries to say it like it’s a big deal, like Sam should feel like he’s won a million dollars, or at least all the Lucky Charms he could eat.

”Really?”

”Yup. But you have to do one thing for me.”

Sam looks up with those big eyes, ready to do anything his big brother would ask him to.

”You have to make me a promise.”

”A promise?” His face crunches up in wonder, a question in his voice. He doesn’t know what the word means; he’s too young.

”Yeah, a promise, Sammy.”

And now they are both sitting in the middle of the ‘fort’ cross-legged, knees touching, sitting face to face with each other, unseen in the bright afternoon sun because of the trees that surround them. Sam is watching Dean intensely, listening to every word that comes out of Dean’s mouth.

”A promise is when you tell somebody something and say you promise and you have to do it no matter what. You can’t change your mind after a promise.”

Sam nods like he understands. ”What do you want me to promise?”

And this is the hard part…”You know when Dad gets…” and Dean pauses, trying to find the words. ”…you know when Dad gets scary?”

The shine that had been in Sam’s eyes since he saw this place fades as he nods.

”Well when Dad gets scary, I want you to come here.”

”By myself?” The fear and worry is clear in his voice.

Dean nods and Sam shakes his head.

”No.”

”Sammy, I…”

”I don’t want to leave you with him when he’s like that. He hurts you.”

”Sam, I’ll be fine.”

”No you won’t; he makes you cry, Dean!”

That shakes Dean. He had quit actually crying out loud a while ago, made a point to do whatever it took so Sam couldn’t hear him. Never put any thought in Sam still seeing the tears that fell down his cheeks in silence. He’d have to work on that.

”Sam, I don’t want Dad to hurt you like he hurts me. Don’t you get that? That would hurt me more than anything dad ever does. I need you to be safe, Sammy. I need you to promise me.”

He knows Sammy hates this, knows Sammy would rather do just about anything else besides this, but he pushes on. “Please, Sammy?”

Sam’s eyes are sad as he nods. “Okay, Dean.”

Dean feels like the weight of the world has been lifted off of him, and can’t help but smile at his little brother. Sam doesn’t smile back.

Dean lays out all the rules…and Sammy changes them. Like the rule about whenever Dad is scary turns into whenever Dad is scary enough that Dean tells him to go, or the rule about never playing in here changes to Sam being allowed to play if Dean comes with him to make sure nobody sees them, but the one rule Dean won’t budge on is that Sam stays in the fort until Dean comes for him, not Jeff or Jeff’s older sister, not Mrs. Kagebeck or any teacher or cop, and especially not Dad. Only Dean. Sam is never ever to come home by himself no matter how long it’s taking Dean. And they agree on a flashlight if Sam only uses it in an emergency…oh, and lastly Sam decides the code word is Tigra.

Dean isn’t an expert on promises but he’s seen this thing in a movie once, and he figures it’s better to be safe than sorry because he really needs Sammy to keep this promise, so he takes the safety pin that’s been holding the collar of Sammy’s t-shirt closed and he grabs Sam’s hand and bends all the fingers down except for the pinky. As quickly as he can, before Sam notices, he sticks the pin into the tip of Sam’s pinky, and Sam gasps in shock, looking at his big brother for the reason for this. Dean doesn’t give an explanation, just repeats the action on his own pinky, and then smears both drops of blood together. He hooks his own pinky with Sam’s.

”You promise, Sammy?”

Sam looks at their tangled little fingers and then into his brother’s eyes. “ I promise, Dean.”

Sam proves to Dean he can keep a promise just over a month later. In return, with Sammy wrapped in his arms, Dean makes Sam a promise that he intends to keep, even if it kills him.

\--

He first spots the Impala when he’s on a call from the garage. It’s off to the side sitting up on blocks. The paint is dull and bleached from the sun, and the upholstery has seen better days. She’ll need work, new brakes and shocks and rubber, but the engine purrs to life without any hassle, even if she has been sitting for a while. Dean says he’ll take it without any thought. Billy Bob says he’s nuts, could find the kid a hundred more cars in better condition for a better price, but Dean wants that one. It’s not the one he remembers from his childhood, not the one where he’d lay on the front seat between his parents, his toes tucked under his dad’s leg with his head resting on his mother’s lap while he rubs her rounded belly, asking her questions about his new baby brother or sister. His father wrapped that one around a tree a couple of weeks after the fire. But this one would be the one to get him and Sammy out of Lawrence and maybe give Sam some happy memories of his own.

She’s sanded down and plastered up, waiting to get a brand new paint job compliments of Billy Bob; he told Dean he had extra paint lying around that they might as well use before it goes to waste. Dean knows better; Hell, he was the one who signed the invoice when the delivery truck dropped it off with that week’s part orders. He saw the look in Billy’s eyes when he brought Sam to work with him the day after Dad got home early. Sam supporting a split lip and black eye from a fight he got in at school, a story that he’s sticking with even when Dean asks for the truth.

Dean is laying on the sanded off hood, back resting against the cracked windshield as he watches the sunset, the sky turning shades of pink, purple and orange. Sam is in the office finishing up his math homework before they take off for home. Dean wonders where they will be this time next year. California? New York? Hell, maybe even Canada. Must be a back road somewhere to sneak in. He hasn’t mentioned his plans to Sam yet, wants to get everything set up first, but if all goes well, come January they’ll be driving away from here as fast and as far as this old girl can carry them.

“Hey, you ready to go? Or do you want some more alone time with that piece of metal you call a car?”

Dean looks over to his brother. Sam smiles wide as he teases his brother, but Dean notices it doesn’t reach his eyes. Hasn’t for a long time.

He’s not going to pretend what his father does doesn’t hurt him, that it doesn’t shake him to the core, but he can’t hate his father like he should, doesn’t hate him like Sam expects him to…because he remembers the dad he used to be, before Mom died. His father was different. He was happy and fun and always took the family out for ice cream on Saturdays. It was only after that he changed, and Dean can’t blame him for that. He was only little back then but he remembers hearing his father cry, remembers him talking to her pictures as if she was still there. He thinks that if something like that were to happen to him, to lose somebody that he cared about, if he were to ever lose Sam, then he might take the same route his father had. So he can forgive his father for years of yelling and bruises, a couple of broken bones and sleepless nights as he laid awake and worried about what the next day would bring. He can’t forgive his father for what he’s done to Sam, the fear and uncertainty that clouds his eyes on a daily basis, the way Sam doubts himself because of something their father had said, the way Sam jumps every time he hears his father’s foot steps, or for the nights of sleep Sam has lost because he stayed awake crying in Dean’s arms. Will never forgive him for stopping the smile from reaching Sam’s eyes.

Dean will put it back.

That is a promise he makes to himself.


End file.
